ONE POX, Ch. 1 Cont.

I'm standing outside of my house in the middle of the street looking up at the sky. It is clear except for a few thin and bandy cirrus clouds. Other than the smell of dead people in the air this could have been a lovely fall day. I'm trying to figure out what the weather might do in the following week. I seem to remember that cirrus clouds are an indicator of a high pressure system. I decide it's a futile task, born more out of a desire for normalcy than an honest attempt at divining the weather. I look back down to a sight that is mildly surprising at first but quickly starts to give me the willies. There are tens of cats on the street. They're sitting, walking, standing or lying down and most of them are looking at me. They weren't there when I came out just two minutes ago. An animalistic urge makes me turn to look behind me. There are cats on that side of the street too, lots of them. They go all the way up the hill to where the road dips down and I can't see it any more. I go back into my house and look at them through the window hoping they'll go away. I'm glad it's cool out and it's comfortable in my house.
I'm siting in my living room wondering where I'm going to get a motorcycle. There is still some afternoon light coming over the trees across the street and in through the windows. The roads are mostly clogged with cars, barriers and other things so I figure I have to use a bike to get around, preferably some sort of dirt bike. Once I make it out of the city, maybe further out on 290, I can find a truck. I decide to look in the phone book for motorcycle dealerships. As I find a couple of places not too far from my house I notice the food in the fridge is starting to stink. I pick up the phone, pause and laugh. My laughter sounds way too loud and it comes out forced at the end. The echo of it in my mind gives me a shuddering sense of loss and despair but I shake it off. After a quick look outside the window at the two remaining cats I start rumaging around my house for a map of Austin. It's starting to get dark and my flashlight is running out of batteries. I decide to brave a quick walk to the neighboring stores, and if I don't find what I need, maybe in a few houses. "You're alone in the world," I think trying to pump myself up for the mini-expedition. Somehow the thought doesn't comfort me it all. It makes me think of the dogs. I've been hearing them now and again, especially at night. The terrible sounds they make give me the distinct impression that they have taken to forming packs and fighting savage battles for status and control. There is no doubt in my mind they will attack me on sight. I don't have any weapons in my house and I doubt I'll find any in my neighbor's houses. The fear of the dogs and simple curiosity about my neighbor's lives convince me to check the houses anyway. I'm bent over with my hands on my knees outside the second house I tried to go into, gaging and cursing people for dying in their own homes. I curse again and head back home in the failing light empty handed and feeling dejected. I pretty much wasted this whole day. The feeling is replaced by a sense of urgency. My nieces or nephews might be alive in Juarez.